Easy
by A. Windsor
Summary: Eighteen months after the elevator. Not related to my ongoing series of ficlets.


Title: Easy

Author: A. Windsor

Pairing: Callie/Arizona

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. My one semester of law school could allow me to legalese this a little more, but it also tells me it's pretty useless. So please don't sue; it's not mine, I'm just playing!

Summary: Eighteen months after the elevator. Not related to my ongoing series of ficlets.

Author's Note: The Grey's writers want baby!fic? Well, then, they'll get baby!fic. I've never turned down the opportunity to write baby!fic. This is (obviously) not related to my ongoing baby-daddy-free series about the Robbins-Torres family. Hope this mitigates the pain a little? Also, punniest title ever. I'm almost ashamed.

* * *

"Hell-oo," Mark calls, unlocking the door after his now-requisite knocking goes unanswered after a few minutes. He checks his watch to make sure this was the coordinated time. Marine brat that she is, Robbins is never late for the (across the hall) transfer. She tries desperately hard to make sure nothing she does could be read as spiteful. So when he uses his key, it's not without a little worry. Parenthood has turned him a little neurotic.

"Hello?" he repeats.

He grins when he sees the delay: Arizona and their baby boy zonked out on the couch, the eleven-month-old holding fast to a handful of her thermal, face down so that the drool that escapes his pacifier-filled mouth pools above her heart.

Mark quickly grabs his phone and snaps a quick picture, texting it to Callie. He can imagine the heart-stopping smile the picture will produce on his best friend's face. Callie positively melts every time she is reminded on the tight bond Arizona and the little man share. God, Blondie is so getting lucky tonight.

But it warms Mark's heart, too, and not just because Arizona makes Callie so happy. No, he loves that bond because he can never object to his son having as many people who love him in his life as possible. In a way, Arizona's love for their baby is the most pure of them all: she had a choice, a real choice, and she's jumped in with both feet and reckless abandon.

* * *

Arizona wakes with a groan, instinctively raising a hand to balance the infant on her chest. Ezequiel sleeps on, of course; he's his mother's son, and he only wakes when _he _feels like it. She startles when she feels eyes on her.

"Holy crap, Mark. That's creepy."

Mark looks up from his smart phone, clearly very comfortable in the overstuffed chair, kind of watching them nap.

"It's six o'clock," he says calmly.

She holds Zeq a little closer in a brief moment of separation anxiety even as she sits up.

"Sorry. We just laid down for a sec to wait for you. Why didn't you wake us?"

"Too damn cute."

Arizona makes a face but doesn't correct his language. Let him be the one to explain to Callie why their son will curse like a sailor before he's two.

"But now he won't go to bed on time."

"Luckily that's my problem tonight," Mark chuckles. "I promise to get him back on schedule by Monday."

"You better," Arizona teases good-naturedly. Then she whispers, "Wake up, little man," with a kiss to Zeq's ear. "Daddy's here."

"Ready for a weekend in the man-cave, little Torres? Remember, no tattling to your moms," Mark addresses Zeq as his warm brown eyes blearily peek open. Less teasingly, more warmly, openly, Mark then says to Arizona, "Lexie's gonna spend the night tomorrow."

Arizona smiles softly. "That's good. He likes her."

"Yeah. I hope so."

"You like Aunt Lexie, right, EZ?" Arizona asks the baby as he rubs at his eyes.

Lexie has stayed with Mark through the life-changing last eighteen months, but she has taken more of a distant, spoiling aunt role than the full embracing of parenthood that Arizona has committed to whole-heartedly. She likes cuddling the baby from time to time, but also giving right him back when he gets fussy. Mark wonders if Callie knows just how lucky she is.

Arizona stands up, half-awake baby on her hip, and starts throwing a few last minute items into the diaper bag on the counter.

"Relax, Robbins. He's just moving across the hall for the weekend. We can get anything we forget."

"Right, of course. Sorry."

"Little man, kiss your momma and tell her you'll miss her, too."

Arizona blushes a little and smiles appreciatively.

"Calliope will want to come over and say goodnight since she's missing him now."

"That's alright. We just have a date with grunting and Sportscenter. She won't be interrupting."

"He had dinner, but he'll need his bottle of milk when you eventually get him to bed."

"We've done this a few times in the past eleven months, Robbins," Mark laughs, but it's affectionate. Blondie's neuroses are a lot easier to handle when they're caused by such obvious love. "Enjoy your weekend off. I know he's been a handful recently."

"But your handful for the weekend," Arizona smiles, only half fake. She hands over the diaper bag first, then plants a kiss on the infant's cheek. "Bye, bubba. Be a good boy for your dad. Don't let him take you to Hooters."

"Aw, c'mon, now. That's a family outing all his parents could enjoy."

Arizona rolls her eyes and ignores him, Zeq pulled in tight, lips to his ear. "Your mami and I love you, EZ. Have fun."

With only the slightest hesitation, she hands the boy over to Mark. Zeq immediately starts crying and reaching his tiny arms towards her, but his father isn't offended. He knows half the time Ezequiel prefers Arizona to even Callie, but he always settles down after the transition.

"Hey, it's baseball time, little guy. The classic father-son bonding sport. You'll have fun, and then you'll be back with your momma before you know it."

The eleven-month-old calms at Mark's extra gentle rumble, recognizing the feel of his daddy. Eyes still on Arizona, Zeq sweetly settles his head onto Mark's shoulder, grabbing at the lapel of his jacket.

"I mean it, Robbins," Mark says as he heads towards the door. "Take _full_ advantage of your weekend off."

* * *

When she gets home, Callie barely takes the time to drop her bag on the counter before her hands are threaded through Arizona's hair, lips pressed together, tongue insistently against hers. It's half stemmed from the picture Mark sent: Arizona and the baby never fails to turn her into a puddle of lovesick and very aroused goo. But it's also because their half-argument from the night before has played in her head all day.

Arizona had really opened up about her remaining insecurities inside their happy, unconventionally shaped, bubble, and while it was a great step in their continuing efforts towards openness, her words had broken a tiny piece of Callie's heart.

"_I'm not going anywhere, Calliope. Never. No matter what. But it _terrifies _me that, god forbid, things go south with us, you could walk out the door with EZ and I'd have no right to ever see him again."_

The words haunt her, because, to her, nothing is sexier and more reassuring than the indescribably deep bond Arizona and their son share, from the late night lullabies to her adorable, never-wavering nickname for him. She's never trusted anyone in her life the way she trusts Arizona _now_. But Arizona's commitment to her beloved EZ is a choice, not a right; even if they make their relationship as legally official as possible, she would only have the rights of a step parent, trumped forever by the presence of two living, biological parents. As it stands now, she's Zeq's legal guardian should anything happen to Callie and Mark, and Callie has made Sloan swear on their son's life that if anything happens to her, he and Arizona would continue to co-parent.

But there is nothing except her word to fight against Arizona's greatest fear, so she's trying actions for reassurance now.

"Hey, honey. How was your day at work?" Arizona asks breathlessly, facetiously. She has a spot of dried drool on her T-shirt, and she still smells faintly of their little boy.

Callie doesn't respond, backing her against the kitchen counter as she kisses her again. This time, Arizona's hands respond, sliding around Callie's hips.

"I'm not going anywhere," Callie finally says. "Never. But if, god forbid, I did, I would never _ever_ keep Zeq from you. We're in this together, all three of us."

"Four if we include Mark," Arizona says dryly.

Callie shrugs. "Three-and-a-half." Then, more seriously. "I love the way you love him. I would never take that away from him. Or you. Never."

"Calliope."

"I just wanted you to know that I heard you. I know this is hard, and my word is nothing, but I will never take him from you, and I've made Mark promise the same. But I'm not going anywhere."

"Me either. And your word isn't nothing. I trust you, Callie."

Those three words have taken a lot of work to pass easily between them, far more work than the more prominent 'three little words' that have never stopped being true.

"So, the usual for baby-free weekend?"

"Nice meals without spit-up, a movie without interruptions, and sex without fear of waking the baby?" Arizona grins.

The custody agreement is what it is, and they fill every other weekend with these activities to give them a reason to look forward to, rather than dread, them.

"And not necessarily in that order," Callie counters.

"Yeah, but not until you go say goodnight."

"You know me so well."

"I know. Kiss EZ for me, too."

Callie smiles and kisses Arizona again, this time sweetly, softly, lingering before pulling away.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Okay. I'll go kiss our baby. You pick out the movie."

"Really? Movie first?" Arizona pouts.

"Pick a boring one and maybe we'll combine a couple," Callie winks, hanging her leather coat by the door as she heads across the hall.

"_Dances with Wolves_, it is!"

Callie rolls her eyes and shakes her head, both at her adorable girlfriend and the fact that she is crossing the hall to say goodnight to their son during his weekend with her best friend/baby-daddy.

They're unconventional and awkward, for sure, but with a lot of love, communication, and boundary setting, Ezequiel Sloan Torres might just turn out alright.

* * *

el fin


End file.
